


Clockworks

by Some_Blue



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Basically, Deceit | Janus Sanders-centric, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loneliness, Loss of Identity, M/M, Remus typical stuff, Self-Hatred, The other sides are mentioned, basically this is an angst fest, gore mention, janus whump, no happy ending, the light sides aren't necessarily unympathtetic but janus does view them that way, the relationship is also more a mention, there's a lot of eyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24728278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Blue/pseuds/Some_Blue
Summary: After Remus is gone Janus just wishes he could know peace
Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	Clockworks

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly a venty thing. pease heed the warnings in the tags and be safe

Tick

Tock 

Tick

Tock

Tick

Janus can't take his eyes off the clock. Can't help but watch the minutes pass until he's needed again. Until they're needed again. 

All his life framed in intricate mahogany, it's the only sound now. 

He misses the crashing. He misses the screaming. 

The clock keeps ticking. He wishes it would stop. 

The tug comes. Janus doesn't know how long it's been. When his eyes meet the mirror his fringe bears a grey streak. 

When he returns the clock is still ticking. The others didn't notice. 

His friend melts off him in favour of scales and yellows.

They never did. 

His eyes drift away from the clock, staring at the wall instead. His wall stares back, a myriad of slitted yellow. 

He'd sit with him for hours and watch them, back when–.. back then. He'd always found them fascinating, tried to replicate them. Still he always came back. He'd said it wasn't the same. Janus knew it'd been a lie. He never mentioned it

Sometimes he'd gone into rants too, when he'd been tired of watching. Asked questions. Asked how it felt to know they'd watch when he slept. Sometimes he'd poke them. Janus never told him it hurt. He just wanted to see him smile and he wanted it enough to bear the pain.

Janus stares at his walls of yellow eyes and remembers how they'd been back then. How the light blues had been small, but always the brightest. How every new purple buried like a knife in his back, private and dim and judgemental. How reds hurt his eyes, entirely too vibrant, always brimming with fear. How the dark blues had been far and in between but by far the largest, the way they spoke of silent denials and even bigger pains. How his yellows had never stayed for long, constantly shifting. How green had been rare, and never the same when they came. How Janus could have spend hours staring at their intricacies.

But they had moved. Janus doesn't know where, but they had left and he was too scared what he'd find if he looked. Now there's only yellow left. 

Only yellow.

The wall parts as another eye blinks open into existence. It stares, mocking him in form of a slitted pupil drowning in yellow and green. 

Janus turns his back to it, curling up tighter under his sheets. _Only yellow._

If he turned back he could swear he'd see them grinning at him. 

Today is a bad day. Cre–.. Deceit doesn't remember what day it is, but it's bad. 

Today is bad and it's because the clock is too loud and too much. It's gears sounding like they're grinding on bones, gnawing on his skull and splintering it into pieces. Because Deceit wants nothing more than to dig hi– their– _his_ claws – no, nails, acrylic and long and green; green like _him_ – into it's organs –maybe he'd find real organs in there. Bloody and mushy and gross and _fun_ – and rip it to shreds –if he covered himself in it would he be warm again?– and make it _**stop**_. 

He hugs himself, long green nails that should be claws digging into his arms hard enough to draw blood. They're green because he doesn't want to think about _him_. They're green because it's Cr– Decei– _Janus'_ favourite colour.

Today is a bad day because he'd been causing trouble without meaning to. Because he couldn't be there to do his job. They'd call him up soon, he was sure of it. If only he knew which him they'd need.

Creativity wants his claws back. They can't waste energy on small shifting. 

Today is a bad day.

He doesn't remember the last time he ate, the last time he's been anywhere but his room or up there. Normally he would have come to check on him by now. 

Janus feels weak, sick, tired.

Nothing is normal anymore. 

~~Maybe he just forgot?~~

The door is gone.

~~Maybe he'll come back?~~

Janus knows he wouldn't. Remembers how he'd searched everywhere, screamed his throat raw. How the imagination had felt empty, how he couldn't get back. That night had been the first time he'd ever seen the prince's room, having to sneak back into the mindscape while he slept. It'd been so unlike _him_. Maybe that's why it's Janus instead of the other twin.  
He remembers how now there's just an empty wall where his room had been.

He remembers how he'd kissed him a bit too desperate before embarking on another quest. He remembers how he'd looked like he was in pain. He remembers that he didn't ask, didn't hold him back. 

Janus remembers and he knows Remus had known. He remembers and knows it's his fault. 

But he'd be fine. He'd live.

Two more eyes join the collection, greens and yellows.

Deceit is alone. It's cold. 

The others haven't noticed. 

The others don't care. 

Deceit's lies have been getting more gruesome lately. He can't help it, so he doesn't. Supposes it goes well with the thoughts. 

~~He wishes the others would check on him.~~

~~He's so alone.~~

It doesn't matter. 

The clock isn't the only noise anymore. It never really was.

Deceit's room had always been housing the truths behind the lies. He wishes he didn't have to listen. 

~~They feel like acid now.~~

~~He wants to go.~~

~~He doesn't know where.~~

~~He wonders if the others would notice.~~

~~He wishes it could just be quiet.~~

It's annoying. He needs to work.

He doesn't recognize himself in the mirror anymore. Showing up without disguise is impossible. 

He's not sure he cares.

He doesn't know how long it's been. It feels like a year. He thinks it's been two. 

The clock sounds weird. 

~~He's so tired.~~

~~No one cares.~~

He's fine. 

He doesn't feel like himself anymore. He doesn't think he's Deceit anymore.

He's _him_. He's not. Not like he was.

He isn't sure if he's even Janus anymore.

~~He's nothing.~~

One thing less to worry about. 

Denial wakes and tells himself he can live through another day. 

Another eye joins the collection. 

The clock goes silent.


End file.
